Last Chapter
by fiveby10eighty3
Summary: Events that transpired after William Mason's death, and the funeral. Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, Anna, Mr. Mason, Mr. Bates, the Crawley family (including Miss Lavinia Swire) also appear in this story. Julian Fellowes and Carnival owns Downton Abbey.


_Note: I've written this as a last chapter for In Between. But I thought that this was also good as a stand alone. Maybe someday, when I am able to finish the story, I'll be able to consolidate this chapter with the others. This covers pretty much events after William's death, and funeral. How I wish that Julian Fellowes wrote a scene for that part too. But of course, we know that there wasn't any. I've seen some forums where people thought that Daisy said and did too little about her late husband's death. But then again, people cope with grief differently. This was how I want people to see her. I think that Daisy is more than what we saw in 2x05. So I'd like to give her more credit. Hopefully, I was able to get inside her head. Hope you enjoy this. Please feel free to write a review-it'll be very much appreciated! _

_I have to admit, I watched 2x05 again and again just to get the feel of things, and listened to the Downton Abbey-The Essential Collection. The track is number 11, The Fallen, and this score carried the theme and mood for the whole episode 5 of series/season 2. Also, in writing this chapter, a lot of tissues were used up, I ended up crying while writing some portions of it!_

* * *

_July 26, 1918_

Daisy Robinson-no, Daisy Mason closed her eyes. It actually happened before her eyes. Her husband was dead. Well, not in the way most people would understand, but she was married to him. She opened her eyes once more and tears began to cloud her vision again, letting them fall freely this time. While she didn't love him the way he loved her, he was her best friend. The best friend a girl could ever have. William always had been such a lovely, lovely person. And she wasted the most part of two years being unkind to him because of Thomas Barrow.

She noticed that she was still holding his hand. It was now cold. Looking up again, he looked so peaceful. Like an angel, Daisy thought. All at once, she remembered him telling her that at the Servants' Ball in 1913.

_You look really nice, Daisy. Like an angel. _

Daisy had been wearing one of Lady Sybil's cast offs then, a rose-grey muslin dress, with a square neckline and lots of lace. Anna then, had pinned up her hair in the newest fashion, and she wanted to try it out before she could do it on the daughters of the house, just to see how it looked. At that time, a light from the string of fairy lights from the Christmas tree had hit the gloss of her dark hair, making a sort of halo. And she remembered William looking at her _almost_ reverently.

_ But angels have wings, William,_ she remembered saying to him.

_Never mind. You'll be my angel. One without wings. _A fresh onslaught of tears poured down her cheeks. She remembered that they both giggled about it. She hadn't got much to giggle about, now. There was a faint knock on the door, and then, it opened to a merest crack. Her father-in-law peeped in. "Daisy?"

"Yes, Mr. Mason?"

"Grassby's come. They've come to take William away."

Daisy looked up. "Just a few minutes more, please," she looked pleadingly. She wanted to see him here, in this room, for one last time, before the men had him laid out and boxed up. And he would be buried in a few days, with his beloved mum.

_What about you? Did you have me boxed up and buried?_

_ I'm glad you're all right, honest._

_ You should be. It's the thought of you that keeps me going.*_

_Well, he went and got injured,_ thought Daisy, grimly, through her tears. And now, he was being boxed up either way.

"Daisy, my dear girl, it's time," Mrs. Patmore appeared in the doorway, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Daisy nodded and sighed resignedly. "He looks peaceful and perfect, doesn't he?" Mrs. Patmore asked, her voice cracking up again. Daisy, unable to speak, nodded. She threw one last glance at William, and left the room with Mrs. Patmore. In the hallway were Lady Edith, Lord Grantham, the old Lady Grantham, Mr. Mason her father-in-law. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were also there, in the event other arrangements need be made.

* * *

Charles Carson looked at the young widow. Daisy looked tired, drawn, and _older._ He remembered that she had turned twenty months ago; her late husband, twenty-three. Looking at her right now, she might as well have looked _thirty-five._ Charles had never been married, and never will now, but he surmised, _so that's the way widows would look._ Firsthand, he thought grimly, among the staff. He felt a strange prickle in his eyes, slowly watering up. The lad would have taken his post, he thought sadly. William's heart was in the right place. The boy was kind, hard-working, reliable and trustworthy. What a blow to poor young Daisy. She had lost the family she would have had. Because if William had lived, the boy would have taken care of her.

But there was still her father-in-law. Abner Mason raised his son well, and as his William would be soon six feet under the ground, he would be bound to be lonely. Surely, he could take Daisy under his wing? They could support each other through the hard years ahead. _There is none so painful for a parent than a child to die before him. _William wasn't his son, but he certainly _felt _like one.

* * *

_One, two, three, four, five. _Lady Sybil Cora Crawley was having a hard time breathing without having the urge to cry every two minutes or so. Dr. Clarkson told her as soon as he returned to the hospital. William Mason was no more. She was also informed, that a brief wedding ceremony had been performed binding William Mason and Daisy Robinson as man and wife before he passed away.

A union that was horribly, cruelly brief, thought Sybil grimly.

William Mason was one of the well-liked members of the staff-solid, kind and dependable. When Gwen invited her downstairs for her going-away party, she had twisted her ankle during the dancing and singing. It was William who had helped her become comfortable, even with a slight injury.

"My lady, it would be better if you sit here," William offered Sybil a chair. He was also holding a stool, on which her foot might rest.

"Oh, thank you, William. I am so horribly sorry. Here I am spraining my ankle and you seeing to my need. When you should be having a lovely time." The young footman smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, my lady. It's a pleasure having you here, and we're only too glad to help you when you need it."

"You are kind. Now, do be a dear, and have a lovely time. I'll have an equally lovely time watching you all."

"Very good, my lady."

Sybil was right. She did indeed have a lovely time, and she spent the evening chattering gaily to the maids about all sorts of things, and while she was not too confident about her singing abilities, they were able to persuade her to sing along with them. The party, it turned out, was not only for Gwen, but also for those who would be going away-to enlist in the war, something that made William a bit sad, she noticed.

"William? Are you all right? You-you look sad."

"Oh no, my lady! I am so sorry to bother you with that."

"Heavens, no. You can tell me."

"I wanted to go and fight, but me dad won't let me. He says that I'm all that he has,"

_Oh dear,_ thought Sybil. _Well, that bit was true._ Sybil had heard from Mrs. Hughes that William was the only child of a kind farmer, who lost three sons and a daughter at birth-or shortly after. His mother had just died at that time, and if William enlisted, got drafted, and if anything happened to him, it would just break poor Mr. Mason's heart. Sybil chewed her lip, one of her odd skills-she could do it without drawing a lot of blood; William noticed this, and decided to change the subject. "Might I bring you something, my lady?"

"If it's really, really all right, I'd love to have one more meat pie and a glass of lemonade."

William smiled. "Very well, my lady."

Shaking herself back into the present, Sybil took a peek into the ward. All the patients were at rest, or were doing something to occupy themselves. Then she saw her sister Mary; sitting by Cousin Matthew. Dear Mary, she thought. Still nursing him and being patient about it even if there was no longer anything to bind them to each other. Other than being cousins, of course. She took one last deep breath for courage, and walked to the bed where her cousin was lying in and her sister was sitting next to. It was Mary who saw her first, and all at once, Sybil's courage left her, and her lower lip began to tremble.

Their cousin, Matthew Reginald Crawley knew why Sybil had come to see them both.

"He's gone, isn't he," he said rather flatly. Sybil nodded. Mary couldn't speak, her shoulders were shaking already-from sobs she was trying to suppress and couldn't. Sybil was surprised. Her older sister rarely, if not never, displayed her grief in front of anyone. Mary fished a handkerchief from her apron pocket, and proceeded to wipe her tears. "William Mason is a kind boy," she began. "He helped Diamond when she went lame, and he told me a little about himself. He's an only child, you see, and he said he loves horses. He originally wanted to apply as a groom, but he said his mother had grander plans for him. She wanted him to become a butler, so instead, he applied to be a footman, to please her. There are not many sons," she sobbed, and rather inelegantly, blew her nose. "There are not many sons who are obliging to their mothers, and would do anything to please them."

"Before he died, he still was able to marry Daisy-the kitchen maid. She's a sweet girl-she and Mrs. Patmore taught me how to cook," Sybil said sadly. "It's just sad that she won't be able to have a family with him, now." Matthew agreed with her. "He used to write to Daisy a lot. There was one time that the men were given their supply of cigarettes. William was no smoker, but he took the cigarettes in hopes of exchanging them for extra paper. If he was lucky, he'd get extra pencils into the bargain. When I wrote to you and Lavinia, I knew that I always had a lot to tell. But William's envelopes always nearly bulged. The boy had the gift of making the mundane look like it was the grandest adventure-even if it was more of a nightmare. William could write," Matthew added, with a watery chuckle.

"If I'm not mistaken, I heard from Mr. Carson that his mother was a schoolteacher before she got married," Mary chimed in.

"I'll miss William," said Matthew. "He was a brave soldier, and did everything willingly-all for 'King and Country,' he said once. And-he-he wasn't just a soldier servant to me. It's as if-during that short period-that I had a younger brother. I would have asked him to become my valet-once the war's over. Like Cousin Robert and Mr. Bates." Mary and Sybil nodded.

* * *

Back in the bedroom in the south gallery, they were laying William out. Daisy looked at them. It was fortunate that William had left some of his clothes in the servants' quarters upstairs, and so, something was found suitable for him to be laid out in. Normally, female servants were not allowed in the male end of the servants' quarters, but today, as William's widow, Daisy was an exception, she was allowed to enter so she might see if there was anything left from her late husband's things that could be used. In the narrow closet, Daisy found a fawn-coloured suit-a jacket, a waistcoat, and a blue tie. There was a similar outfit, but it was grey. With the jacket, waistcoat and tie, she took one from a pile of shirts from a drawer, and a pair of woollen socks. _Just because your husband's dead, Daisy Mason, there's no reason why he can't be kitted out well,_ she thought. Another thought struck her. William had left some of his things in his room. Although he knew that going to fight was a huge gamble, he had been hoping that he would come back.

Daisy stood for a long time in her husband's bedroom. _Daisy Mason,_ she thought. She was no longer Daisy Robinson. The ring around her finger was proof enough. She might not have loved him the way he loved her, she thought again. But he was her best friend-and she missed him already. Like a ton of bricks, it hit her-she wanted, needed her best friend back.

It was over, they had laid him out. Her father-in-law was sobbing quietly in his handkerchief. Awkwardly, Daisy put her arm on his shoulders. But she knew exactly what he was thinking. In fact, they were thinking of the same thing too. Both of them didn't think that it would actually happen. In Mr. Mason's case, however, it was what he _didn't_ want to happen. But it did. He might have gotten his way for the first three years of the war, but King and Country took him in the end, all the same. Daisy's eyes filled with tears again. She might be _just_ Daisy _Mason_, kitchen maid, general dogsbody, and some people thought she was simple-minded, but even she knew well enough that the war was a horrible, _senseless_ waste. Presently, the sound of footsteps was heard and Daisy looked up to see His Lordship and Her Ladyship, with Lady Mary, Lady Sybil and a young lady Daisy recognised as Miss Swire, Mr. Crawley's betrothed. Lady Grantham was the first to talk to her.

"You poor darling," Lady Grantham began, taking Daisy's hand. "We're so sorry we didn't come up to see you earlier. We wished we were able to do so sooner. Lord Grantham and I would like to pay our deepest respects to you and Mr. Mason," Daisy looked at her father-in-law who, by that time, managed to stop sobbing, and smiled gratefully at his son's former employers. "My lord, my lady, you have done more than enough, and we-" looking at Daisy, "are grateful," he began, but his lordship laid his hand on the farmer's. "Mr. Mason, we have also come here to thank you. It might have sounded so callous, since William-is-now gone. But your son died a hero, in our eyes," he said. "What we mean to say is that, William saved Mr. Crawley's life," Lady Mary finished for her father. Miss Swire nodded.

"You mean, William was injured trying to save your heir, my lord?" Abner Mason was surprised. Lady Grantham nodded. "Yes," she said. Even she was trying hard to not show emotion. It seemed to him that she was about to fail. "Your son is a good lad, and a good servant. He was well-liked by the servants and us, as well. We all thought that he had a bright future ahead of him when the war would come to an end," Lady Grantham's lower lip began to tremble. "But it's not to be," said Lady Sybil sadly. "But we are grateful," she said. "To you, and Daisy," she said, biting her lip. "We will see to it that both you and Daisy would be taken care of," said Robert. "In gratitude and respect," he continued. As the lord and lady departed the room, Abner followed them.

The three young ladies took advantage of this. This time, it was Miss Swire who spoke first. "Mrs. Mason, I am truly grateful to your late husband for saving Mr. Crawley's life. I know it sounds feeble after him dying, but I..we...had hope that it would ease your pain thinking that," she said, taking Daisy's hand into hers. Lady Mary and Lady Sybil nodded in agreement. "We just wanted to tell you, that, if ever you and Mr. Mason need anything, please let us know. Please know that we are so grateful," Lady Mary finished. If Daisy wasn't mistaken, her young ladyship looked like crying herself. Everybody was fond of William, Lady Mary said. "Your husband died a hero," she whispered.

* * *

_Three days later_

_Downton village churchyard_

"...ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." Things seemed to happen so quickly before Daisy's eyes and before she knew it, she gently putting in a bouquet of wildflowers tied in a pink velvet ribbon (one of Gwen's birthday presents to her six years ago) into the hole where William's coffin was lowered into.

* * *

Earlier that day, as a tribute to a fallen husband and best friend, Daisy woke up early (she was granted some sort of leave as agreed upon by Lord Grantham, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes) to gather wildflowers. All the other servants looked askance at her when she tied the buttercups, bluebells, fox glove, red campion, wild thyme, cowslip, yarrow and poppy into a velvet ribbon in a shade which her late husband loved the best. Daisy remembered William telling her one Sunday, five summers ago that he loved wildflowers. "_They look so pretty and so free. Look at them, so bright and gay. Honestly, I do like these wildflowers better than those posh ones being cut into vases in the house._" She also remembered that William liked the colour pink on her. "Makes you look like those roses out in the gardens," he said once.

"You could have had the flowers from the gardens," Sarah O' Brien was, for the first time, rather bewildered. "What are you doing with those wildflowers?" she asked the young widow. "Pink ribbon?" Daisy nodded. It was strange, so strange, to answer the lady's maid rather easily. "William liked wildflowers," she explained, in a voice that deceived no one. Mrs. Hughes, Anna, Mr. Bates, Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Carson thought that she spoke in a rather brisk, brittle tone. Because they knew that if Daisy used her usual tone, the poor girl would snap. "An' he likes pink." The bewildered staff watched the young girl helplessly as she tied the flowers with the ribbon. "I have to go up and get dressed," she said, her voice even more brittle, bright and brisk.

Beryl Patmore, Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes waited until Daisy was out of earshot.

"She loves him, but she can't, or won't admit it," she said with some degree of finality. Charles Carson looked at her. "What in the world do you mean?" he asked the cook. Beryl sighed. A long, sad sigh. "Daisy's been going about that she doesn't love her late husband the way most women do. For her, she thinks he's her best friend and that's just it. And that's why she doesn't want to claim William's pension. Because she thinks it's dishonest. But I do think she loves him."

Elsie Hughes was stupefied. "How?"

Her best friend slapped her hands on the table. "I'll tell you how. On that same day William was fightin' that battle wit' Mr. Crawley, she went into this weird trance-like she's cut herself from th' rest o' th' world. '_Like someone walked over me grave,_' she said then. I am a firm believer that it doesn't happen to people who don't care about the people they're supposed to care about. But _it happened to Daisy._ And she answers his letters. If she was being polite, she might as well have scribbled down a mere note. Or she wouldn't probably write at all. But she writes letters to him. _Sheets and sheets._ To me, that sounds pretty much like love."

Mr. Carson sighed. "Yes, I suppose. Love does take on different forms," he said rather sagely.

* * *

Captain Matthew Reginald Crawley thought that it was a battle well-fought and won when he got Dr-no, Major Clarkson to allow him to go to William Mason's funeral. Grimly, he thought that the boy wouldn't have had to go to war had not Dr. Clarkson and his mother intervened. _Crikey, what a nasty thought. Blaming your mother for the death of a young private._ But it was true. Wasn't there a family-somewhere in Worcestershire who had lost three out of four sons. A sister had written to the Army asking them to help spare her brother, and the appeal was a success. Cousin Violet tried to manoeuvre things in order to spare William from fighting in battle, and to spare Mr. Mason from heartbreak.

But it did happen. Young and full of promise, William died from his injuries in Amiens. Matthew thought of the girl William married. Daisy Robinson, as she was then. A delicate slip of a girl he remembered seeing for the first time at the Servants' Ball in 1913. But if she was a kitchen maid, she's tougher than she looks, Matthew mused. All the same, he felt sad for her. William was crazy about her, bringing her picture _everywhere_ they went, including their unauthorised patrol when they thought they would be in kingdom come. But he didn't remember seeing the picture when they were in Amiens. Would William have suffered less injuries if he had carried it in his pockets-like a charm, no less different than the little dog Mary had given him for good luck? Because the last time, William carried Daisy's photograph in his pocket. It was in the kit bag when they were in that awful battle, Matthew realised.

_They're going to chuck everything they've got at us._

_ Then we shall have to chuck it back, won't we sir?_

Matthew was able to persuade Cousin Violet to allow Mr. Mason and Daisy to ride in the carriage with him, Mary and Lavinia to church for the funeral. Cousin Violet graciously consented, as long as she rode with them. In the carriage, she said that she tried and failed to save William from conscription. The least she could do was to get Mr. Travis to marry the two young people. Sadly, one of them was in his deathbed.

"So you've strong-armed him Granny?" Mary asked.

"Of course, my dear. I've said to Edith, it is sad when you give these little people some taste of power. Goes into their heads like strong drink. Look at Dr. Clarkson," Cousin Violet clucked disapprovingly. "If he hadn't intervened, William would have been alive and planning a family with Daisy. We can't have everything we want, I suppose," she sighed wearily. Mary and Lavinia looked at each other and were silent for the rest of the trip.

Matthew looked at the bereaved people. Mr. Mason's eyes were closed. But grief makes one so tired, he mused. Then he looked at the widow, who sat as quietly, staring at the bouquet of wildflowers tied together with a pink velvet ribbon. He was later to learn from Mr. Carson that Daisy gathered them as a tribute to her fallen husband, knowing that William liked wildflowers and that he liked to see her wearing pink._ That's a sweet girl all right, _he thought. The flowers and the ribbon were the only splash of colour in the girl's outfit. Good God, he thought. _It's an awful thing for a young girl to wear widow's weeds. How old is she? Nineteen? Twenty? But then again, for the duration of this war, many girls of her age-and possibly younger, would wear widow's weeds._

He was able to get past the funeral without howling. He was ready to, since he didn't just lose a subordinate. He lost somebody akin to a younger brother. But he gathered strength from Mary and Lavinia. His mother was there too, with a face he couldn't quite make out. Cousin Robert was there too, as well as Cousin Cora, Edith and Sybil who wore the dress uniform of a VAD. The household staff was present in full force, flanked by Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. A red-haired girl was present too, who Mr. Carson murmured as an aside that she was Gwen Dawson, a former employee, and one of William and Daisy's friends. Anna must have written to her, he thought.

* * *

Finally, it was all over, and the crowd dispersed. A worried Mr. Mason asked Daisy if she really wanted to be left alone, and he heard her say, "It's...it's only for a little while." Mr. Mason gave his daughter-in-law one last worried glance, and he saw Mr. Bates putting his arm on the man's shoulder as some form of solidarity, passing on a message from His Lordship that there would be a small luncheon at the big house, and his presence would be appreciated.

_That was a good gesture, _Matthew thought. It was really good of Cousin Robert. It was now Lavinia's turn to wheel him, and he said, "Can you wheel me up to Mrs. Mason? I'd like to speak to her," Lavinia nodded. Mary gave Lavinia a small smile, leading them both to the young girl wearing a small black hat, and a black dress and carrying a bouquet of wildflowers. _Daisy Mason is being very brave,_ he thought. She bent a little, then threw the bouquet to the hole in the ground.

"Daisy?"

The girl turned to face them. "Milady," then she started to curtsey. Mary then laid a gloved hand on the girl's shoulder, which meant that it was all right for her not to curtsey. "Mr. Crawley wants to pay his respects." She nodded at Lavinia, who wheeled Matthew towards Daisy.

"I am so sad, Daisy, I truly am," Matthew began. "William was a brave soldier, and a good person. It—it wasn't just losing a comrade-in-arms. During the brief time I've spent with him in the trenches, he was like a younger brother. I feel that I have lost a younger brother."

Daisy raised her eyes to his. "Truly, Mr. Crawley?"

Matthew nodded. "We...are so grateful to William. If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to let us know," he continued. The young widow shook her head. "It is—very kind of you, Mr. Crawley, and—these were very kind words. But...it won't bring William back. But...thank you, sir." He understood the girl. Poor mite, it still is painful and fresh to her. To show that he understood Daisy, he gave her more time to be alone with her dead.

"Take care of yourself, Daisy," Mary said to the young widow gently. He heard her say something he didn't quite hear clearly. "Pardon, dear? I didn't quite hear," Mary coaxed Daisy.

Daisy repeated herself. "I hate this war, my lady," she said, a little more bravely. She was afraid that her young ladyship would be shocked and say something in reproach. To her amazement, Lady Mary's eyes filled with tears, and she replied, "Me too, Daisy. Me too. I hate this war."


End file.
